The creature was pulp. A bloody smear across the road, bones ground almost flush with the asphalt.
“What the hell is it?” my brother Josh inquired.
I cringed at the mass. “Dunno.”
It could have been many things: a farm cat, a skunk or even a red fox, but not even the world’s most educated conservation officer or biologist would’ve had a clue.
I’ve seen dead things on the road all my life. But the most disturbing thing about this poor creature was its tail. While its body was mashed, its tail remained discolored, but still furry and fluffy, unmarred by the violent tread of tires that had squished the carcass.
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